Meiji's End
by BishieKeith
Summary: Kenshin and Kaoru's sixteen year old daughter, Himura Sumire, is faced with the consequences of her father's tragic past coming to light due to a stranger's greed. Will Kenji abandon her when she needs him most?


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A/N: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, it is owned by Nobuhiro Watsuki. This story takes place 18 years after Kenji Himura is born. Original-Characters will be involved to a significant degree, since I've wrote in the addition of a daughter to the Himura clan. Reviews are welcome and encouraged, and I promise this story will end up being a mini-epic. The story, however, is (C) BishieKeith.

Summary: 18 years after Kenji Himura was born, the lives of the Himura family and friends have changed significantly. 16 year old Sumire Himura is left as the sole child in the Kamiya Dojo after Kenji's wanderings take him further and further from home. When her father's tragic past comes to light at a stranger's money-making scheme, Sumire finds her family in grave danger from the repercussions. When her parents go missing, Sumire is faced with the obstacle of dragging her broken family back together at the potiental cost of her own life.

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Meiji's End

It was a day like any other, beginning with the timely rise of the sun. The warm appearance of light cradling Tokyo could almost lead one to believe it was summertime. This, unfortunately, was not so. The land was trapped in a cold snap, and woe to anyone who hurried outside to greet the emergence of a new day without bundling up. Sheltered by a fence in one of the many housing districts is the Kamiya Kasshin Dojo. Time has only gently weathered the broad gates, and on this day in particular the strong wooden arch has been decorated with loose ropes of yellow cloth. This is where, today, one of the untold Tales of the Meiji begins.

Sumire brushed her hair behind her ear, working the soft bristles of the floor brush across the dojo floor with her free hand. The young girl steadily ignored the vocal sounds of company coming from across the yard. She set both hands across the back of the brush and hopped up onto the balls of her feet, rushing down the length of the floor. Even though she had grown use to the bulk of a hakama around her ankles when she was very young, it was managing the skill to be able to clean in them that kept her from stumbling around like a fool. The aforementioned cloth swept across the backs of her ankles as she swung her right leg out to slow herself and at the same instance spin around before she hit the wall.

"Sumire-chan!"

Distracted by the loud greeting, Sumire's leg folded from beneath her and sent her tumbling into the side of the wall with a dull 'thud'. Her thick bangs amiss about her eyes kept her from seeing the caller, but she knew very well who the pest was. Sumire flipped back her bangs, staring with heat in her cheeks at the man who dominated the dojo's entrance with his frame. "Yahiko!"

She did not mean for it to come across in such a snappy manner, and in fact, she was relieved to see him. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that." Sumire added, for good measure. The girl took the edge off her voice, so she wasn't shouting at him across the dojo's hall.

Yahiko arched a brow, folding his arms into the yellow haori draped around his upper frame. "Hey now, busu-chan – it is Yahiko-sensei over this threshold!" He edged his bare foot further into the dojo and wiggled his toes.

"Hey!" Sumire stood up, the slap of her calloused soles echoing in the room. "I just polished that." Her mouth was screwed into a frown, and only Yahiko was aware that Sumire still had the brush clutched threateningly in her right hand.

He cleared his throat, unfolding his arms and showing her the palms of his hands. "Whoa now, I just came to get you for the celebration. It's kinda pointless without you there."

Sumire's fingers flexed around the wooden handle of the brush as she shoved her other hand into her hair, scraping her fingertips back along her scalp until her nails bumped into the low ponytail at the base of her neck. "Yahiko, I really don't feel up to it today."

Yahiko answered her with a frown and a pregnant silence before he spoke, "It's because of Kenji, isn't it?"

The girl abruptly turned her back on Yahiko, pretending to study the name plaques of the dojo's students. "He should be here. I mean, not for me. This isn't that grand of a day, you know. I just .. I just wish he was here. Whenever we go and do something nice, Okaa-san always looks like she's waiting for him to show up."

He pulled his lips tight and twisted his head to look over his shoulder. The grounds of the Kamiya home were still empty, signifying everyone was still likely knocking each other over in the kitchen. "Sumire-chan, Kenji is a grown man. Kaoru knows that, just because he's not here doesn't mean she's sufferi-"

Yahiko was sharply cut off by a 'Iie' from Sumire, "She misses him so much, and he knows that but he's out there with his big dumb head chasing stories!"

"Sumire, Kenji just .." His mouth went dry. Kenshin and Kaoru's oldest son was the most difficult to make excuses for. The boy was loved unconditionally, he was there as a witness for that. But as Kenji grew towards his teenage years, he had been enthralled with the life his parents, namely his father, used to live. Yahiko saw the struggle in him when he tried to relate the adventures of their past to the current peaceful existence of the Himura family.

Sumire broke his train of thought, "It doesn't matter."

Yahiko watched Sumire put up the cleaning brush, her midnight-blue training hakama shifting noisily around the tops of her feet. He had almost been positive when Sumire was born that she would end up being coddled into a spoiled state, but the young miss thwarted every attempt. She never accepted help with any personal endeavor and had managed to grow a stubborn streak a mile wide. Yahiko smiled wanly as he dwelled. As much as Sumire was independent on self growth, she was just as much loyal to her family and friends. It was a charming, but intense personality.

"Do I really have to go?" Sumire inquired, leaning her shoulder near her name plaque.

Yahiko grinned, "Kenshin and Tsubame have been cooking all day. Your birthday only comes around once a year, you can tough it out."

The girl fixated on the tops of her toes, flexing her weight backwards onto her heels. "Fine, but do I have to change?"

He rolled his eyes upwards. If this is what Kaoru felt like when she had to put up with him in his youth, he suddenly decided he felt great empathy towards the assistance-master. "Hai. Kenshin was talking about how Kaoru worked on that kimono all month."

Sumire felt a surge of guilt and absently rubbed at the side of her neck. "I'll go get changed, then. I don't want to hurt Okaa-san's feelings." She padded across the dojo towards Yahiko, loosely fitting her thumbs into the belt of her hakama.

Yahiko let out a breath of relief. He had been expecting a fight over that issue, "Great! I'll see you at lunch, then." Briefly, he met her gaze as she approached him. Kami-sama, as much as Kenji was a mix of his parents – so was Sumire. Whereas Kenji inherited a more muddy shade of red hair from his father, Sumire's tresses were as raven-black as Kaoru's. It was her eyes that undeniably showed Kenshin's parentage. They were the same striking violet, brought brilliantly out by the petite contours of her face and the rich black lashes that framed them. However, currently, those eyes were quizzical – and there was a scrunch of confusion between her brows.

"Uh, move Yahiko."

He grunted, looking towards the ceiling. "Just making sure you weren't going to try and slip .. back in." he covered, quickly turning and stepping out onto the grounds. He wasn't looking at her in _that_ way. Tsubame as a wife, thoroughly suited his every emotional and physical need. And, Sumire was almost two decades younger; not to mention the daughter of the former battousai. He remembered snickering to himself when Megumi stepped out to announce the birth of the child. Whoever had the guts to ask for her in marriage was going to be in for quite the time.

Yahiko snuggled his hands deeper into his haori sleeves as he strode towards the living quarters of the dojo, dead grass crackling under his feet. Once he was sure that Sumire was heading towards her room, he veered off to join the company massing in the dining room.

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Sumire slid the shoji open to her room and stepped onto the weather-stiff tatami mats. Easing the door quietly shut behind her, she regarded her rolled up futon with a frown. This was the first birthday that Kenji hadn't turned up for. Even when his disappearing spells started at fifteen, he at least made some effort to show up at their home during important events. Now, his visits had become rare and infrequent. She rolled her shoulders forward, easing the tension from her back as she moved towards the wrapped kimono beside her futon.

Sixteen. While it wasn't a particularly important birthday, she still felt like she was so close to climbing into respectable adulthood. The question was, of course, if she would turn out to be a respectable adult. She started to unwrap the delicate tissue from around the kimono, smiling faintly at the corner of her mouth. Sumire knew she should be happy; she was always most content when she was surrounded by those she loved – and those who loved her. But right now, she felt the gap left by her brother more intensely then ever. It ate at her. Sumire felt lucky to have been born into this family, why couldn't Kenji have?

"Mou." She murmured aloud, before stopping herself with a squint. Great, first she has to wear a kimono and now she was starting to sound like Okaa-san. Sumire went about unfolding the kimono, listening to the soft rasp her calloused fingers made over the delicate material.


End file.
